See previous parts for disclaimer, etc.
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Willow's POV
"Be with me."
It amazes me that such a simple phrase could have
changed everything so much. He took me in his cool
embrace and whispered those words to me, and my whole
world was changed. I still don't know if it was a
question or a command that he murmured that day. I
only knew that my answer was yes. After all, what
else could I do? I tilted my head back and waited for
him to finish what he had started so many months
before.
I suppose in some ways I was afraid of death, but not
for the reasons you might expect. It wasn't death I
was afraid of, but being without him. That was the
part of dying I didn't want to face. And now I won't
have to.
He was everything to me. My lover, my tormentor, my
destruction, and my deliverance. And now he is even
more. I would never have guessed that I could need
him more than I did then, but I do. Now I understand
what he meant so long ago by the term sire. It is a
pathetically inadequate word to describe the
relationship I now share with him. It cannot even
begin to cover the depth and scope of my need for him.
I find that being a vampire is not entirely what I
might have expected it to be. Not that it was
something that I thought about a lot before, but it's
still not what I was expecting. Maybe it was knowing
what I was going to be, knowing what would happen.
Maybe that's why I don't feel like the demon is in
control so much as it is there whispering to me,
making its evil little suggestions.
There are times when I think that my former self would
be disgusted, even horrified by what I am, what I do
now. But that life is like a distant memory, like a
story read long ago by a little child who has now
grown up and forgotten the details. I am a demon now.
I cannot question my existence, nor can I honestly
say I would give it up. There is no particular right
or wrong in it. It simply is.
I know that my sire doesn't entirely approve of me.
He had hoped and still does, I think, that I would
rival him in darkness. He tried desperately to
cultivate in me the evilness for which he is so
famous. I dare say I have been a disappointment in
that respect. But it has not changed his need for me,
nor my need for him.
Sometimes I wonder if these desperate feelings I have
for my sire are the vampire equivalent for love. From
what I remember of love, it was warm and gentle and
joyous. But that too is becoming a distant memory.
Indeed, I sometimes think that all those good feelings
died the same day my friends did. Peace and joy and
love all destroyed in a thick pool of sticky red
blood. Happiness shattered at the hands of a demon,
the same kind of demon I have now become.
But I try not to dwell on those things. I am content
in this existence. The sweet blood of mortals,
enthralled by my embrace, feeds my demon and sates my
hunger. Spike prefers the taste of fear, but I find
my tastes fall more towards the sweetness of a man who
thinks himself in love. It is a challenge to drain
them before they realize what is happening, before
their blood turns sour with anger and rage. I suppose
it is something of a gift, a talent. Even if my sire
does not entirely approve.
It is funny, really. For the first time in my life
(or unlife, as it may be), I am unconcerned with my
lover's opinion. I do not seek his approval or wonder
about what his opinions. There is no frantic worrying
about whether or not he will be upset with me. Of
course, for the first time I am certain that my lover
will not ever leave me. It gives me a strange sense
of calm to know that. It is true that I would be
utterly devastated if he left me. But he cannot. I
may need him, but my darling sire needs me just as
much.
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